


my destiny

by pyreios



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: M/M, Poetry, soft..
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:53:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25306291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pyreios/pseuds/pyreios
Summary: accidentally orphaned all my works so heres this again ripwrote this mb 2 years ago for class
Relationships: Alistair/Male Warden (Dragon Age)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	my destiny

He smiles

and I realise

I never want him to stop.

Lothering is small a 

town I’ve never been to a 

Town I never thought I’d want to go to it’s a

farming town.

The darkspawn are on our tail I can

feel it deep in my chest pulling me

back to them.

He is.

He is some sort of savior,

listens to the people and

runs around preforming their errands

giving them some sort of false security 

“The darkspawn will not touch you here.”  
I try to talk to a child and I don’t know how.

Not like him.

the child runs away to his mother .

He releases the Qunari and holds out his hand smiles

bright,

tells him “I’m Aleksander,” 

and invites a murderer into his life with open arms, 

when I ask him about it, he looks sad.

He says, “Aren’t we all murderers at this point?” and I

can’t deny it. My mouth tastes sour.

He spares the men threatening us in the tavern

and listens to that chantry girl’s false prophetising,

welcomes her and smiles at her

and I doubt.

He never does.

On the way out of Lothering there is a rose

standing bright in a bush that has all but wilted;

all but died.

Something beautiful in the midst of darkness;

clarity in chaos.

All I can think is _Aleksander._

I cut it, and I press it into a book.

A month later when he hears that

Lothering has fallen to the Blight,

He hides away in his tent.

I think I could hear him

crying and I 

thought about the rose.

Not yet.

On the way to redcliff something keeps me on edge keeps my

head cloudy

and my heart racing and

Aleksander touches his hand to my face I wonder

if now is the time 

and I hesitate.

Make up an excuse he

nods but he looks concerned

Morrigan and the Qunari look at me funny.

All I can see is Aleksander.

“Look,” I say as we near the castle, stop him with a hand to his shoulder. 

“I have something I need to tell you before we continue.”

His hand finds my cheek again and he smiles and 

_this is a mage, Alistair_

_this is a man, Alistair_

_this is the last surviving grey warden save for you, Alistair_

_this is the future, Alistair._

“Anything. You can tell me Anything.”  
And I do.

It spills like black ink from my mouth.

Morrigan looks on in disbelief when I tell them I am Maric’s son,

I am the half brother of the previous King Cailin,

I am a bastard prince and 

I am a grey warden

and Arl Eamon was the closest thing I had to a father

despite his crass words and

empty presence.

“I don’t want you to treat me different. _Please._ I’m still the same Alistair!”

Aleksander smiles

and there’s something soft in his eyes that makes me feel 

something deep in my chest and it’s _different_ then the darkspawn

and yet entirely the same.

I brush it off with a joke.

I am terrified.

A few days later he saves redcliff.

He met a man in the dungeons who made his eyes grow soft,

enveloped him in a hug that 

lasted forever 

I busied myself looking at my hands. 

The man, Jowan,

ran away,

and Aleksander’s face fell

and I can’t figure out what it is I’m feeling

or maybe I don’t want to.

Back in camp, he gives my my mother’s necklace.

I ask him how he got it and he

said “Eamon,” 

I told him the story behind it and he listened,

took my hand in his and leant his head onto my shoulder by the fire

I don’t know what we’re doing.

I like it. 

The rose is still in that book, hidden tucked in my bedroll.

I wonder, and I decide against.  
Not yet.

A man, an elf, an assassin,

tries to kill Aleksander.

And yet we win, tie him up and 

Morrigan kicks his side ‘til he wakes up. 

Aleksander spares him, asks him if he wants to join. 

I feel. 

I feel.

I feel small. I disagree and Aleksander's hand is on my arm,

I relent,

because he knows better than me. He’s better than me.

Surprisingly,

I don’t envy that.

Pain.

It

hurts and I 

can’t really see

everything looks blurred

and bright and

I think I hear Aleksander’s voice I 

say his name and his hands are brushing back my hair he has

such nice hands.

He has magic in his veins and he’s whispering

hushed things as he presses his palms flat against my chest

I think i might be bleeding but it

doesnt seem to matter all i want

is for Aleksander to stop sounding

so _broken_

my chest is numb and 

his hands thrum with something 

bright,

something whole something

utterly magic I 

hate magic but i think

i might love him

“I love you too” he cries,

but it’s quiet

it’s soft

it’s _him_

and I wonder 

and

everything

grows dark. 

we recruit an enchanter at the circle of Magi. 

her name is Wynne and she

has a sort of wisdom settled in her bones

that radiates safety,

radiates kindness

she is willing to sacrifice whatever she can to save others and I

wish that i was a little more like her.

We don’t kill any of the mages in the tower, 

fight actively against the right of annulment,

it strikes me at some point that this tower

the confinement of mages

the packed together bunks and the

corridors lined with age-old stone

this.

this is where Aleksander grew up. 

I fight a little harder to preserve this;

I fight a little harder to preserve him.

I fight a little harder.

Before the deep roads I

stop him

ask everyone to move on he looks

a little skeptic

a little concerned a

little worried

I pull the rose out, 

still red, still

beautiful still

 _Aleksander_.

He cries and

he always cries but

this is happy and open and I

fumble

i always fumble

he cups his hands around my jaw and pulls my head down until 

our foreheads touch I 

never realised how clear his eyes were

how green

“I saw it in Lothering and wondered how something so beautiful could be in the middle

of so much death and chaos.”

Aleksander watches my eyes, and i continue, scared 

but not alone.

never alone.

“And it reminded me of you>”

and Aleksander kisses me.

It feels strangely like home,

like how the wardens before me described the Calling

a duty and an end to something _before_

something that pulls and pulls and pulls

as if it is your destiny.

This,

if anything,

is my destiny. 


End file.
